Ham in Wax Paper
by ncfan
Summary: -Harusame, Utakata- At the first, it's the promise of ham in wax paper that gets the boy to talk to him. Spoilers for anime-only "Tsuchigomo Kinjutsu" arc.


**Characters**: Harusame, Utakata**  
>Summary<strong>: At the first, it's the promise of ham in wax paper that gets the boy to talk to him.**  
>Pairings<strong>: None**  
>Author's Note<strong>: I've watched the Tsuchigomo Kinjutsu filler arc (the anime-only arc featuring Utakata, in case you haven't seen it), and I have to say I like it a lot more than I usually like Naruto filler. That's probably what has spawned this.**  
>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Naruto.

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><p>The child tugs on his sleeve with the intent of begging for food and that's how Harusame, an aging hermit master of sealing on a visit to Kirigakure to stock up on supplies, meets Utakata, nine-year-old jinchuuriki of the Rokubi no Namekuji. At first he tries to wave off the child until the two lock eyes (<em>He remembers Tsurugi's voice: "The child has gold eyes"<em>) and Harusame sees the young boy's golden eyes.

_So this is the jinchuuriki of the Rokubi._

"I take it you want food, boy?" Harusame tries to look friendly—as Tsurugi and countless other Kiri nin have told him, his facial expression when relaxed tends to come across as a bit severe—and smiles.

The child—_Utakata, _he tells himself—is not cowed by Harusame's attention, not by a long shot. His golden eyes are direct, unblinking and almost disturbingly calm. Eyes as placid as the storm outside the awning is chaotic.

"Then come sit here—" Harusame pats the sodden wood bench beside him; the bench is under the sturdy wood awning and protected from the worst of the storm, but spray still hits them both "—and talk to me for a while, and _then_—" he draws a bit of ham wrapped in wax paper from his pocket and Utakata's eyes gleam with hunger "—you can eat."

Utakata promptly crawls up onto the bench beside the much-older man; plainly he thinks that it's worth waiting to talk a little bit if it will get him some food. Harusame bites back a sigh as he looks at the child.

Utakata, as he understands it, is nine years old this spring; he keeps in contact with Tsurugi, an old friend and younger contemporary of his, to ask about the child. He's ragged, filthy and emaciated; hunger radiates off of every inch of poor, pale skin. Others might look at him and think he finds himself in this condition by virtue of being a jinchuuriki, but Harusame knows better. Every orphan in Kirigakure who has no willing family to turn to finds themselves in this condition, until or unless they find someone willing to take them in. Hardscrabble existence, fighting for food in a village where there is no orphanage and no support for orphans. Harusame himself was in this position as a child until he graduated from the Academy.

And this child… He knows about this child.

Harusame pulls himself back to the present. He has spent the last half-minute staring at the boy and Utakata, understandably for a jumpy street rat is starting to get distinctly nervous.

"So… I take it you do this often?"

A soaking wet dark brown head of hair nods slightly, sending water beads scattering to the floor. He'd probably have lice, Harusame muses speculatively, if it was the right climate; Kirigakure is far too cold and, more importantly far too wet for even the hardiest lice.

"And do you ever have much luck with the polite version of scrounging?"

Utakata shakes his head.

Harusame raises an eyebrow and adjusts his thick bifocal glasses. _Not the most communicative child in the world._

"Now, Utakata, why do you—"

"How do you know my name?" Utakata interrupts, and Harusame can't prevent a knowing smile from creeping across his face. The child's voice is slightly raw and rusty, soft as though he doesn't use it very often, and he probably doesn't.

A bit of rain splashes from the street into their faces as a wagon rolls by and Harusame sighs and takes off his glasses to wipe them clean on his robes. "I know your name—" Harusame replaces his glasses "—I know your name, because every high-ranking shinobi in this village knows your name, who you are, what you look like and what you're doing at any given moment."

Utakata wrinkles his nose. "Is it because of…" He breaks off, shaking his head and motioning with one hand to his stomach. "Tsurugi says I have to be followed in case enemy shinobi try to kidnap me."

_The bijuu… So he knows about that…_

"Yes… I suppose it is."

The boy frowns a little bit. "Oh." His eyes drift over to the wax paper-wrapped ham Harusame is holding in his left hand.

Harusame laughs a little, the severe lines of his face relaxing considerably. "Alright, child… Since you are so obviously in need of food…" He gives the ham to Utakata and the boy attacks it immediately. The old sealing master is disturbed at the almost animalistic way the child rips apart the wax paper and digs his teeth into the ham, with no consideration for etiquette.

_You were this once. You were a child once, whose stomach always ached with hunger, and you couldn't keep yourself from wolfing down your food without even tasting it._

_And is his life going to get any better? No. He'll just be a weapon once he's old enough to prove his worth._

"Now—"

But Harusame can say no more. Utakata finishes the ham and propels himself back into the street, running for cover and back into the narrow, alleyway world he knows, leaving scraps of wax paper behind on the bench and to become soggy on the ground.

-0-

It's not the last time Harusame sees Utakata though. The sealing master is back on the same bench the next day and Utakata finds with wary, expectant eyes. He's figured out that Harusame's an easy mark, and he sighs long-sufferingly and relinquishes his grip on the bowl of soba in his hand.

The next day, he's sitting on a bench beneath an awning in a different part of the village, but still Utakata finds him.

And the day after that, it's the same story.

As the boy emerges from the silver veil of rain and sits himself on the bench next to Harusame with the same expectant eyes out of dark hollows of eye sockets, Harusame smiles slightly and hands him the apple.

"Tell me, boy, how would you like to get decent meals on a regular basis?"

"…I'd… like that."


End file.
